


Always the Freak

by JohnlockFan13



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Bullying, Developing Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Drug Addict Sherlock, Drug Addiction, Drug Use, Drug Withdrawal, Eating Disorders, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Rape Recovery, Self Confidence Issues, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Sherlock is a Mess, Underage Drug Use
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-16
Updated: 2016-01-16
Packaged: 2018-05-01 23:36:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5225519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JohnlockFan13/pseuds/JohnlockFan13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Teenlock! Highschool AU. Sherlock is a newcomer to John's school. Over time, the two will develop a remarkable friendship. Or is it something more? Eventual Johnlock. Triggers for self harm, suicidal thoughts, drug use and eating disorders. Will post trigger warnings at head of chapters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A New School

"This is our new classmate, Sherlock Holmes." the teacher announced, as the new boy walked in. "Introduce yourself, please."

Sherlock groaned inwardly. Why did every new school he was sent to have to engage in this pointless ritual? "I'm Sherlock." he muttered, and headed to the back if the classroom. Hopefully there would be an empty chair there, where he could have relative peace.

The english teacher, Kathy, tutted disappointingly. "Come, don't be shy, tell us about yourself!" she encouraged in a sweet voice. Obviously fake, Sherlock observed. She only wanted to get this class over with so she could go make out with her new boyfriend, who didn't really love her, but she was convinced he did. Divorced... twice... last about a year ago. Two cats. Three children, one a teenager, the others...

"Are you listening to me?" she said loudly. "Pay attention in my class, young sir."

Sherlock forced himself to listen to her. "I just moved here, I'm the most annoying asshole you will ever meet, now, please, can we get on with this?" He dropped his backpack next to a chair in the back.

"Sherlock Holmes!" Kathy shouted. "Behave yourself!"

Sherlock smirked slightly. "Funny thing for someone to say who's been divorced twice and is now seeking to seduce another."

Kathy turned bright red with embarrassment. "Why... I... Detention! For a week! Sit down and don't speak!"

Sherlock sat down, glad to be at the back of the class. It looked as if this school would be the same as all the others. Boring, pointless. He sighed and retreated into his mind palace, becoming peacefully oblivious to everything around him.

.,.,..,.,.,.,..,.,..,.,.,.,.,.,

"John, you have got to hear what this new guy did!" his friend Greg said excitedly. "He sassed off to Kathy, then told her that she'd been divorced twice and is now trying to seduce someone else! It was bloody hilarious!"

John laughed. "Oh, but he just made it up to make her angry, didn't he?"

"Oh, probably. But... wow."

Victor Trevor sneered. "He looks like a little fag to me. I'd avoid him."

"More like a freak." Sally Donavan added, hitching her backpack onto her back. "He doesn't seem quite normal."

Walking down the hallway with his eyes cast to the ground, Sherlock heard the second half of the conversation. Really, again? Every school's kids said the same things, hated him just as much...

"Oh, look, the little faggot's come to join us." Victor laughed, grabbing Sherlock's arm and pulling him into the group. "Why'd you make up all that stuff about our English teacher, huh?"

"I didn't make it up." Sherlock snapped. "Any more than I am making up that you are meeting a girl after school today with hopes of getting your way with her, you deal drugs for extra spending money but are not a junkie yourself, you..."

"Shut up! Do you hear me, you little demon, SHUT IT!" Victor screamed, grabbing Sherlock and throwing him into the floor, and slamming his fists repeatedly into his face and chest. "One more word about me and I'll..."

"Victor! No! Stop it!" shouted John, and shoved him off of Sherlock, who was as white as a sheet except the blood running from his nose. "Are you alright?" John asked, sending a glare at Victor, almost daring him to say something.

"Fine, get away from me." Sherlock snarled threateningly, pulling himself to his feet and walking away with shaking steps. John was moved with pity, and almost followed him, but decided against it.

.,.,..,.,.,.,..,.,.,.,..,.,.,.,.,.,.,

Sherlock ran away from the school, tears running silently down his cheeks. His parents would not be pleased to see that he had gotten into yet another school fight. Also, one of his ribs was throbbing painfully. Probably broken, Sherlock thought. Well, he had survived worse, it didn't matter. The body was only transport, after all. Only transport, nothing more.

After a half hour's walk, he arrived at his home. Perhaps only Mycroft would be home, and he could sneak upstairs and clean himself up. Mycroft might even help him conceal the fight from his parents, he had done such things in the past. He opened the door tentatively.

Instantly he heard loud shouting, and he knew his parents were in fact home. He dashed towards the stairs, but his mother saw him first.

"Sherlock! Come tell us about your day! Is the new school..." Her voice faded into disappointed silence when she saw his bloodied face.

"What happened this time?" his father yelled. "Why can't you exist anywhere without stirring up a fight? Why can't you just be normal? Stupid little freak." He slammed down the book he had in his hand and sat down heavily onto the couch.

"Dad..." Sherlock faltered. "I... I didn't start it."

"Of course you didn't." his father said, his voice laden with sarcasm. "You never do. Convenient, that."

"Is it also convenient how you went out with your new girlfriend while I was at school?" Sherlock said, not even caring what they thought.

"Sherlock!" his mother gasped.

"Stop making up things about me!" his father raged, leaping up from the couch. "Tell any more stories about me and I'll break your pretty little face! Is that clear?"

Sherlock didn't answer, but slowly backed away, desperately hoping for escape. But his father grabbed him and slammed him against the wall, jarring his broken rib. Sherlock winced and squirmed, looking away.

"I said, is that clear? Answer me, you insolent little twit!"

"Perfectly clear." Sherlock cried, and the moment his father released him, he ran up the stairs, shaking with exhaustion and pain, then locked himself in his room.


	2. Chapter two

The blade glistened in the low light. Sherlock knew he shouldn't do it, but he was beyond caring. He drew it across his leg, barely wincing with the pain as blood began to stream out. His thin body was covered with scars from too many nights spent like this.

"Sherlock!"

He ignored the call and cut harder, trying to block his internal pain.

"Sherlock, answer me immediately!" It was his father's voice.

"What do you want?" Sherlock asked in a shaking voice.

"Open your door, I never gave you permission to lock it, twit."

Sherlock's face twisted with pain and despair. "Please, dad..."

"Open it now!"

Sherlock pulled his pants back on and limped over to the door, hoping the blood wouldn't soak through the dark jeans.

"Ah, good to see you're nice and awake." His father laughed and sauntered in drunkenly. "I was thinking, it's been a long time since we had a shag."

"Dad, please no." Sherlock whimpered, backing away. "Please, I don't want..."

"It doesn't matter what you want, pretty boy." his father sneered. "Every good boy owes their father a good fuck. Now, would you really like to get on my bad side, again?"

"No, dad." Sherlock whispered, a tear rolling pitifully down his scrawny face.

"Pants off, let's go." his dad grinned. "Let's make a night of this."

Sherlock's hands shook with terror as he unbuckled his pants and let them slide to the floor.

"Oh, you have got to be bloody kidding!" Sherlock's dad snarled. "You cut yourself again? What a pathetic little teenage girl we have here!"

Sherlock refused to answer. His father grabbed him and threw him into bed, grunting with anticipation...

The next morning in English, Sherlock was even more unresponsive than the day before. He couldn't stop his hands from shaking and he couldn't stop thinking about what had happened the night before.

After class, Sherlock spotted Victor putting some books in a locker. He walked over slowly.

"You deal drugs." he whispered into Victor's ear. "What's your price?"

Victor smiled, reaching a hand towards Sherlock's curly hair. "Oh, I have a high price, but I think you'll pay it."


	3. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trying to work on longer chapters - I hope you enjoy.

"See you tomorrow!" John called to his friends, and set off for home, whistling loudly. He hoped his mom had made a good dinner.

But as he walked away from school, he saw a figure slumped lifelessly against a garden wall. Upon looking closer, John saw the curly black hair and thin face - Sherlock? What on earth was he doing here?

"Hey, are you alright?" John asked, looking at him with worry in his eyes.

An unintelligible mumbling and twitching hands was his only response.

"Sherlock?" John knelt down beside him, and saw that the other boy's eyes were dilated and unfocused. Sherlock's head jerked upwards when he saw John.

"Who are you, what are you doing here, stop! Stop go away." Sherlock cried out, and struggled to get to his feet, but only succeeded in falling forward into John's arms.

"Sherlock, it's okay, it's only John. From school. Remember?"

"Of course I remember I remember everything I always remember..."

"Of course you do." John consoled him. "Come on, I've got to get you out of here."

"No you don't, just leave me here, I want to be alone, alone is what protects me..."

John furrowed his brows. "No, friends protect you."

Sherlock laughed and stumbled to his feet with John's help. "I don't have friends."

"Well now you do." John said, ripping a strip of paper from one of his notebooks.

"I don't want your phone number, don't bother."

"Wait, I didn't tell you what I was doing." John said, confused.

"No bloody kidding." Sherlock growled. "However it's quite obvious what your intentions were."

"Well I'm giving it to you anyway, I think you need a friend." John stuck the paper into Sherlock's pocket. Sherlock snorted and tried to walk away. John supported him and they moved down the sidewalk.

"Where're we going?" Sherlock groaned after a few minutes. "You can't take me home. I won't go back."

"Why don't you want to go back?" John asked.

"Dad!" Sherlock moaned, jerking backwards. "No! No!"

John moved aside at the approaching figure.

"No, no." Sherlock whimpered.

The figure stopped in front of them and twirled an umbrella. "I see you have found my little brother."

"Who are you?" John asked defensively. "He says you're his father."

"That's only because he's high as a bloody kite. Again."

"Mycroft?" Sherlock called out. "Mycroft don't take me back there!"

"I can't take you back there in this state." Mycroft shrugged. "You'll get it all over again, so I guess you'll just have to come home with me tonight to sleep this off." He moved over and pulled Sherlock towards him. "Goodnight, ah..."

"John."

"Goodnight John." Mycroft and Sherlock moved off. A clap of thunder roared overhead and rain started falling around them.

"Wait!" John shouted. If he goes home he'll get it again? Get what again?"

"I'm afraid that's none of your business." Mycroft called back.

"John what's wrong?" You've been quiet all evening." John's mother asked.

"Everything's fine, mom, stop worrying." John said, discreetly checking his phone.

"You've got another girlfriend don't you!" John's sister Harry squealed. "Why else would you be checking your phone?"

"Harry, seriously." John sighed. "Actually, I'm still with Mary."

"Did you two fight then? Is that why you're upset?"

"Harry, leave him alone." John's mother snapped, annoyed at her daughter's lack of manners.

John typed out a quick text.

I hope you're feeling better

No, that sounded so cheesy. Maybe he should just leave that strange boy alone.

He stared at the text.

And then sent it.


End file.
